


At the Altar

by bi_exhausted1743



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Church Sex, Cunnilingus, F/F, Female Presenting Aziraphale, Female Presenting Crowley, Historical, Ineffable Wives, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, medieval era, sacrilegious probably, they're lesbians harold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 03:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_exhausted1743/pseuds/bi_exhausted1743
Summary: They used to meet in churches because it was where Aziraphale felt safer. As time continued and Aziraphale got into the habit of joining monastic orders, churches became their meeting place more out of convenience.That was the spoken reason, anyway. That it was more convenient. Convenience, however, had nothing to do with the way Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed particularly pink when Crowley would press up behind her in a pew, nothing to do with the nervous glance up to the cross Aziraphale would give before her eyes fluttered shut, and nothing to do with how much wetter Crowley found her angel when she finally gave in and slipped her fingers underneath her robes.





	At the Altar

**Author's Note:**

> no excuse for this, this is church smut

It had grown dark outside. It seemed impossible that they had been here long enough for the sun to set already. Although, Crowley considered as a set of lips brushed across her neck, it had been late afternoon on her walk over here. Was it already that time of year, when it was completely pitch black by no later than six? Not pitch black yet though. Not outside, and certainly not in the church. The candles helped a great deal with that. Even with most of them lit, it was still dim inside, but soothingly so. Much softer than the light of the sun, or of a grand fireplace. When she had arrived, Aziraphale had been strolling up and down the aisles, lighting candles here and there. It was habitual, likely something she did every night in preparation for some midnight foot traffic. No one had strolled in yet though, so Crowley locked the door behind her and lit the rest of the candles with a lazy wave of her hand. Aziraphale scowled, maybe because she had actually been enjoying her lighting, or maybe because Catholic churches were always supposed to be unlocked to her parishioners.

They used to meet in churches because it was where Aziraphale felt safer. This was, of course, back when Aziraphale didn’t trust her. While she couldn’t say for sure if she had the angel’s full confidence now, she knew Aziraphale trusted her at least as far as she could throw her, which was typically onto the nearest bed. As time continued and Aziraphale got into the habit of joining monastic orders, churches became their meeting place more out of convenience.

That was the spoken reason, anyway. That it was more convenient. Convenience, however, had nothing to do with the way Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed particularly pink when Crowley would press up behind her in a pew, nothing to do with the nervous glance up to the cross Aziraphale would give before her eyes fluttered shut, and nothing to do with how much wetter Crowley found her angel when she finally gave in and slipped her fingers underneath her robes. The angel would never admit to it, but Crowley had picked up on her little kink quite early. All it had taken was a chaste kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek one day when she had walked her to church. Aziraphale had gone red, her eyes instantly falling to the ground. “Crowley, please, not...not here,” she murmured, although she sounded the farthest thing from put-off Crowley could imagine.

Of course, they had since graduated from small pecks. At the moment, Aziraphale had Crowley pinned against the altar, one hand on either side of her waist. Crowley had been wandering around, doing what she could to irritate Aziraphale, or at the very least get her attention. She had drummed her fingers loudly against the altar, glaring up aloofly at the crucifix when Aziraphale had finally taken the hint and spun her around. They had only kissed a bit before Aziraphale made it clear she wanted more. One particularly rough bite from the angel had Crowley gasping, which quickly turned into a chuckle as the angel’s tongue grazed over the budding bruise. Aziraphale’s hands moved from the altar to Crowley’s hips, pressing them further into the altar, as if she planned on cutting the demon in half. Crowley would have let her. She hummed her approval at the stronger grip while she brought her hands up to Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“It seems a bit contradictory, you still wearing this,” Crowley teased, her fingers moving up to brush against Aziraphale’s habit. A blonde curl had already fallen out and onto her forehead.

“All of this is a bit contradictory, wouldn’t you say, my dear?” Aziraphale retorted, her voice muffled by the skin of Crowley’s neck.

She chuckled again. “Is that what turns you on then? The contradiction?” Crowley purred teasingly, finally reaching under Aziraphale’s habit and pushing it off her head. Her hair fell out, a bit muddled from a day of being under a hood, but no less beautiful than it always was. Aziraphale didn’t answer. She continued her assault on Crowley’s neck, sucking a few bruises that would definitely show above the collar of her cloak. Something she could easily miracle away, but obviously wouldn’t. Crowley twisted her fingers through her hair playfully before taking hold of a few locks and tugging Aziraphale’s head back. That got a moan out of her, and now Crowley could see her angel’s face. They had not gotten much past kissing, but she still looked debatched, pupils blown wide, cheeks already flushed. “Beautiful,” Crowley murmured, aloud. Her hand fell to Aziraphale’s cheek as she leaned in for another kiss, languid this time. She knew the angel wouldn’t tolerate slow kisses for very long, so she made sure to appreciate the time she was granted. Sure enough, Aziraphale quickly tugged Crowley’s bottom lip with her teeth, getting a gasp out of Crowley long enough for the angel to slide her tongue into her mouth.

Crowley let Aziraphale kiss her, let her do whatever she damn well pleased with her tongue, all while moaning encouragingly. Aziraphale’s hands had moved from her hips to her butt, gripping tightly before hoisting her up and onto the altar. Crowley broke the kiss to laugh. She was sure her own face was equally red as red as Aziraphale’s at this point. This was new. They had fucked in the monastery, they had even fucked inside a church on several occasions. On the altar though. Nonetheless, Crowley’s legs spread easily, welcoming Aziraphale between her thighs as she leaned in to kiss her again. The angel was cupping her cheeks, devouring her, and even though she knew she didn’t need air, Crowley found herself short of breath.

By the time Aziraphale pulled back, Crowley was panting. She smiled as Aziraphale looked her over, clearly surveying her handywork. Soon enough, Aziraphale was sinking onto the floor before her, hands now on Crowley’s thighs and tugging her to the edge of the altar. “‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me’ and yet here you are, angel,” Crowley teased, leaning back on one hand and running the other through her hair, “On your knees before the altar, ignoring all those vows and commandments, worshipping me instead.”

She had half expected a smack for that, but instead she got Aziraphale’s eyes peering up at her. Not chastising or even irritated. Yearning, pure yearning, and something else Crowley couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was enough to shut her up, all other mocking, religious or otherwise, dying on her tongue. All she could do was swallow, both hands braced on the altar, and wait for Aziraphale. Thankfully the angel only watched her for a second more before her mouth was on her. She was gentle at first, but not for long. Within a minute, Aziraphale was thrusting her tongue into Crowley. It wasn’t nearly enough, but knowing it was Aziraphale’s tongue inside her was enough to get her to moan. Her tongue disappeared, leaving her empty for only a moment before it was replaced by two of her fingers. While her fingers fucked her, going deeper with each thrust, her tongue danced over her clit.

It was as close to heavenly as Crowley could imagine. One hand was still pressed against the cold stone of the altar; the other was now buried in Aziraphale’s golden curls. Crowley could only spare a few, brief glances down at her. It was almost too much. From here, she could barely see Aziraphale’s face, and she wanted to remedy that, but that would mean pulling Aziraphale off of her and fuck if that was the last thing she wanted. She could feel her climax mounting in her stomach, but somehow it was becoming more than that. Eventually, she let her head fall back, moaning unabashedly. The sound vibrated across the church. Aziraphale moaned in return, the sound pulsing against Crowley’s clit. Her back arched, and she was so aware that she was speaking, spewing pure, unfiltered bullshit, but she couldn’t stop herself, “Oh fuck, Aziraphale...fuck, ah-angel, you’re so good at that, y-you’re mouth it’s fucking sinful, please, love, don’t stop, god don’t stop!”

It must have served as encouragement because Aziraphale showed no sign of stopping. Her efforts seemed to double, her tongue moving rapidly while a third and fourth finger slid into her on a particularly rough thrust. Crowley shouted out again, her fingers tightening in Aziraphale’s hair to a point that must have been uncomfortable. Before she could even think to apologize, Aziraphale was sucking hard on her clit. “Fuck!” Crowley gasped before all that she could manage was a few disjointed shouts as her climax hit her. Aziraphale’s grip on her thighs held fast as she continued to lick her through her orgasm.

When it subsided, Crowley fell back onto the altar, panting. Eventually her pants dissolved into chuckles, and she heard Aziraphale laughing quietly in return below her. “C’mere,” Crowley murmured, still breathing heavy and reaching blindly towards where Aziraphale had been. Aziraphale got the message, not without a roll of her eyes, and took a seat on the edge of the altar next to her. Now it was Crowley’s turn to roll her eyes, wrapping her arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder and tugging her down on top of her. The angel yelped softly, but didn’t protest, instead situating herself with her head on Crowley’s chest.

They stayed like that for a while, Crowley petting Aziraphale arm and Aziraphale tracing absently with her finger along Crowley’s stomach. Someone only knew how long they had been laying like that before Aziraphale went to move. “We should probably get going, my dear. My room is only a quick walk away,” she said, her voice soft, “and we won’t want to be found here in the morning.”

Crowley smirked at that, quickly rolling over and onto Aziraphale. She straddled her hips, leaning down, and kissed her, slowly and filthily. When she pulled back, Aziraphale was quiet, staring up at her expectantly. “Than you better finish quick for me, angel.”


End file.
